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Nov. 8th, 2009 05:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
urocyonLately, I've been having some trouble with seasonal depression. I really need to find where the cat(s) knocked the front panel off my lightbox, so I can use it again without searing my retinas. In a way, I won't be sorry at all to move back to very close to my latitude of origin (37°N, not 51°N). A trip to somewhere around the Mediterranean wouldn't sound bad in the meantime, given the time and money!
But, it finally occurred to me yesterday what the bigger problem is right now, and why things have gotten harder the past couple of weeks: another wave of grief sneaking up on me. My mom died around Thanksgiving last year. When Max and I went to the park yesterday afternoon, I caught myself looking around and thinking how depressing she would have found the weather conditions and general time of year; she hated fall anyway (SAD), and it's so much greyer here. The thoughts triggered by seeing a murder of crows particularly made me pay attention to what was going on; crows and their feathers are for grief (not misfortune, just plain grief), back home. Maybe it's time for me to pull last year's out of the cedar box and wear them as a reminder.
Not surprisingly, I still miss her a lot. Even though I've been having to look at some of the ways in which she was unintentionally emotionally abusive, we loved each other. So often, still, I catch myself collecting interesting facts and other conversational topics I know she'd enjoy, for the next time we talk. It used to be every day, but now I'm more aware of it; it's still a stab to the heart every time I realize we're just not going to be talking on the phone. I don't do well with the phone, thanks to the auditory processing stuff, and she was pretty much the only person I didn't mind getting me on there.
During her last few years, she called and needed to talk a lot--at least a few afternoons a week, up to everyday her last year--and I'm glad I could give her that much support in dealing with her very bad situation. Being there in person wouldn't have helped more, as I found out when I felt that set of responsibilities acutely and almost stayed there in 2006. She was the only person I could talk to about some things, and that hole isn't totally filled yet. My main link to a lot of social support is gone. Which sounds selfish, but that's what grief is. At least I'm not dealing with many regrets there for myself, just sorry that her life was as hard as it was in a lot of ways--and that there wasn't much I could do to help.
So, yeah, figuring that out laid me pretty low yesterday. At least I know what's going on now.
"With A Wonder And A Wild Desire" ("I will crawl from under every weight") keeps going through my head--along with it's other half, "The Spoken Wheel". There are a lot worse things.
It also occurred to me only yesterday that a major reason I really freaking despise flying is having to keep the tics and stims under control for hours on end. The main reason I didn't get hauled off by security the one time I was sick (from gluten) and started melting down from all the stress on the way back from Stockholm, was that Ingvar was with me and they obviously assumed we'd been fighting. (And that he'd stop me from behaving too alarmingly, were I likely to do so on the plane.) It was mortifying. On one trip, I really sympathized with a guy whose Tourette's was breaking out--and find it interesting that his wife started talking to me about it, when I was starting to get twitchy myself. Guess I looked understanding! That's another thing that might be easier to manage, being aware of it--and, hopefully, getting some Valium or similar before we have to set off for San Francisco!
On a different note, I got another post up elsewhere today: Being kind to your body, and nasty assumptions, partly on the temptation to take the "no pain, no gain" thing too far.
But, it finally occurred to me yesterday what the bigger problem is right now, and why things have gotten harder the past couple of weeks: another wave of grief sneaking up on me. My mom died around Thanksgiving last year. When Max and I went to the park yesterday afternoon, I caught myself looking around and thinking how depressing she would have found the weather conditions and general time of year; she hated fall anyway (SAD), and it's so much greyer here. The thoughts triggered by seeing a murder of crows particularly made me pay attention to what was going on; crows and their feathers are for grief (not misfortune, just plain grief), back home. Maybe it's time for me to pull last year's out of the cedar box and wear them as a reminder.
Not surprisingly, I still miss her a lot. Even though I've been having to look at some of the ways in which she was unintentionally emotionally abusive, we loved each other. So often, still, I catch myself collecting interesting facts and other conversational topics I know she'd enjoy, for the next time we talk. It used to be every day, but now I'm more aware of it; it's still a stab to the heart every time I realize we're just not going to be talking on the phone. I don't do well with the phone, thanks to the auditory processing stuff, and she was pretty much the only person I didn't mind getting me on there.
During her last few years, she called and needed to talk a lot--at least a few afternoons a week, up to everyday her last year--and I'm glad I could give her that much support in dealing with her very bad situation. Being there in person wouldn't have helped more, as I found out when I felt that set of responsibilities acutely and almost stayed there in 2006. She was the only person I could talk to about some things, and that hole isn't totally filled yet. My main link to a lot of social support is gone. Which sounds selfish, but that's what grief is. At least I'm not dealing with many regrets there for myself, just sorry that her life was as hard as it was in a lot of ways--and that there wasn't much I could do to help.
So, yeah, figuring that out laid me pretty low yesterday. At least I know what's going on now.
"With A Wonder And A Wild Desire" ("I will crawl from under every weight") keeps going through my head--along with it's other half, "The Spoken Wheel". There are a lot worse things.
It also occurred to me only yesterday that a major reason I really freaking despise flying is having to keep the tics and stims under control for hours on end. The main reason I didn't get hauled off by security the one time I was sick (from gluten) and started melting down from all the stress on the way back from Stockholm, was that Ingvar was with me and they obviously assumed we'd been fighting. (And that he'd stop me from behaving too alarmingly, were I likely to do so on the plane.) It was mortifying. On one trip, I really sympathized with a guy whose Tourette's was breaking out--and find it interesting that his wife started talking to me about it, when I was starting to get twitchy myself. Guess I looked understanding! That's another thing that might be easier to manage, being aware of it--and, hopefully, getting some Valium or similar before we have to set off for San Francisco!
On a different note, I got another post up elsewhere today: Being kind to your body, and nasty assumptions, partly on the temptation to take the "no pain, no gain" thing too far.
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no subject
Date: 2009-11-08 08:21 pm (UTC)A trip to somewhere around the Mediterranean wouldn't sound bad in the meantime, given the time and money!
I can't speak for time, or money in general, but I've found that by watching Ryanair's website like a hawk, it's usually possible to pick up flights for around £20 as long as you're not overly fussy where and when you go. I've also found that even just three or four days in January were a tremendous boost to my mood and overall well-being - walking around somewhere that's warm(ish) and _different_ was fantastic. And for a few days, I didn't mind roughing it and was able to get decent deals on accommodation.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-11 03:10 pm (UTC)not taking care of your health is selfish, because it means that at some point someone else will have to take care of you
That does make a lot of sense. ATM, I'm doing better working from the "you're worth taking care of" angle, dealing with the still-strong tendency to assume that other people's problems are inherently more important.
Yeah, I was thinking more in terms of "wouldn't that be nice", but a trip might actually be doable once I get my renewed passport. (Had to get a temporary replacement in all the rush last year, forgot to swap it for a permanent one before it expired!) At least the US visa people only want a copy with Ingvar's application, so we won't risk being without passports for almost a year. (As did happen to mine dealing with IND/Home Office.) He's got some time off next month, anyway, so he won't lose all his accumulated holiday time. Maybe we can do a short trip then.
Thanks for reminding me that, indeed, I can travel if I want to. *g* Sometimes I get stuck in poverty mentality a little too much.